


Crocuses in the Snow

by 64packofcrayons



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Compliant, Chrobin - Freeform, F/M, Happy birthday Chrom, My English teacher would be proud, Obvious symbolism is obvious, Parent-Child Relationship, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Sexual Content, but it's not a big thing - Freeform, just a heads up for anyone who is uncomfortable with it, you gigantic nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64packofcrayons/pseuds/64packofcrayons
Summary: Just something small I wanted to put out there for Chrom's birthday!  Not the best, I know, but this has been on my mind for a while.  Hope you liked it :)





	Crocuses in the Snow

Robin knows now, she’s always known something was wrong, something was not right, and it was _too_ perfect.

And now she knows.

In another life, she murders _all_ of them. Proud Maribelle, brash Vaike, shy Ricken, , little Nowi… Frederick, Lissa, _Chrom_... She orphans her own children, beautiful Lucina and sweet Morgan – left with nothing and no one.

She knows what she must do, Grima cannot destroy this life too, the only one she has even known and laughed in and loved in –

And even though she’s hurt Chrom so many times, in this life and another she lies again, she promises not to sacrifice herself.

But she’s already broken so many promises, what does one more matter?

Robin smiles at her husband, looks into those trusting blue eyes and nearly breaks in two. But she stays strong, doesn’t crack because she’s perfected her poker face. A tactician is a master of deception. But this is one game she doesn’t want to play.

“You’re right, Chrom. I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

 

Falling in love with him snuck up on Robin the way springtime sneaks up on the heels of winter. At first it was all snow, a bleak white canvas. It was almost beautiful in its pristine beauty.

But then she sees it. A tiny blade of grass, peeking its head through the snow. She smiles, looks away.

 

* * *

 

Robin realizes that she would die for her family the moment Chrom’s seed takes root in her womb. There are some things a mother just _knows_ , and she knows she is a mother one cold fall morning, just when the leaves were starting to fall from the trees.

She feels  _life_ inside of her.

Robin turns, presses her face into the pillow. And for the first time since she woke up in that field, she cries.

Chrom feels the bed shaking with her movements, murmurs with a sleepy voice tinged with concern. “Robin? ‘S wrong?”

Robin pulls her face away from the pillowcase and smiles at her husband. “Nothing. Everything is right.”

 

* * *

 

Sitting in their tent in the humid air of Valm, she presses her sweat-sticky forehead against her husband’s, feeling the hot puff of air against her lips. “Chrom…”

“Tell me you’re telling the truth,” Chrom whispers. She feels his eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, feels the wetness of the tears he cannot hold back on the tips.

The dreams she has, no, the nightmares say _no_ , she is not telling the truth. The way the ugly presence in her rears its head every time a headache sends splitting pain through her temples say _no_ , she is not telling the truth.

“Tell me you won’t sacrifice yourself for that…for that _monster_.”

Robin inhales, a shaky, rattling breath, presses a moist palm to his cheek. “I will not.”

 _I will sacrifice myself for_ you.

 

* * *

 

She watches her stomach swell with new life; sees the skin pull taut and shiny as her body adjusts to accommodate the unborn babe. Chrom is ecstatic and a nervous wreck all at the same time, fluttering around her to make sure she doesn’t “overexert” herself.

Pregnancy is an unpredictable opponent for Robin. How does one fight back against their own body, a terrain that moves and changes with each passing day? On Monday she is elated, above the moon with joy; Tuesday brings tearful arguments with Chrom over the order of her texts on the shelves.

And she loves every moment.

 

* * *

 

Falling in love with him snuck up on Robin the way springtime sneaks up on the heels of winter. At first it was all snow, a bleak white canvas. It was almost beautiful in its pristine beauty.

But then she sees it. A tiny blade of grass, peeking its head through the snow. She smiles, looks away.

 

* * *

 

 

The child is strong and relentless as it grows inside of her. It kicks and twists, some days leaving her weak-kneed and gasping for breath, but she never lets anyone see the momentary lapse in control. She is the constant in their lives and cannot afford to falter.

 

* * *

 

When Robin looks back, the grass is not grass now, but leaves. Crisp green leaves, stark against the snow. She turns away, but not before sneaking on the last look at newfound life.

 

* * *

 

 

“I want to name her Lucina.”

Chrom turns his head to look at her, splays his hand across her swollen stomach. They are reveling in the afterglow of lovemaking, a gentle affair that left her aching and sore in the most delicious way, still tingling and sensitive at the apex of her thighs. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

“I _know_.”

Chrom chuckles. “Far be it from me to question one of the best commanders in our army. But I’d still like to know.”

Robin stretches languidly, like a cat and grins. “How do you know the sun sets in the west and rises in the east? How do you know the snow will melt after the longest winter? I just _do_.”

 

* * *

 

When she turns back, the world is in bloom, purple and blue crocuses bursting through their snowy prison, the warmth of spring washes over her and Robin revels in this.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why Lucina?”

“I was doing some reading – “

“Surprise, surprise.”

She punches him on the arm, and he laughs, pretending to wince. “Hush! I was doing some reading and Lucina is a diminutive of Lucius, which means light in an ancient language, one that has been long forgotten. But when…well, when she is born, I want her to bring light to not just us…but to all of Ylisse. The gods know it is long overdue.”

 

* * *

 

“You can’t leave me,” he whispers, moving slowly, rhythmically inside of her, swallowing her tiny gasps and moans with soft kisses, counteracting the bruising grip he has on her hips. “You can’t.”

Robin winds her arms around his neck, bearing down on him, clenching around him as she nears release.   “I…know…I know.” She mouths at his neck, letting her cries fill the tent, knowing that most likely everyone can hear her, and cannot bring herself to care.

 

* * *

 

 

And as spring finally breaks through, Lucina comes into the world, a squalling infant with the blue of Chrom’s eyes and the blood of kings and queens in her veins. And as the midwife hands her daughter to her, Robin cradles her close, and swears an oath of fealty to her. She is the one who holds Robin’s allegiance, and she will do anything for her. Robin laughs gently, and takes her daughter’s tiny hand in her own, and kisses the fingers one by one.

 

* * *

 

But like all things, beauty fades. Robin feels winter’s bite in the air even as she plays peek-a-boo with her daughter on a blanket, surrounded by the fields of crocuses. She shivers, but turns back to the blue of her daughter’s eyes, the brand of the Exalt staring her in the eye, and as she reaches out to tickle the child’s sides, they laugh together.

 

* * *

 

 

“Chrom…Chrom… _Chrom_ , oh _gods_ – “ Robin tilts her head back and moans into the muggy night air, and Chrom is right there with her, sobbing her name like a litany into her hair.

They stay like that for a long time, holding each other tightly. She traces the shape of his face with her fingers, trying to memorize him, to commit him to memory in the most accurate way that This is the last time she will ever see him. She wants to remember him like _this_ , vulnerable in love.

 

* * *

 

 

And the snow falls again, winter sweeping everything in its path. The crocuses wilt and brown and crunch under her boots.

Robin looks down at the crushed petals. Sometimes she worries if they will never come back. She wants Lucina to see the crocuses again.

 

* * *

  

Decisions, decisions – one is life, the other death. Robin gambles with high stakes almost every day of her life, but this one is all or nothing. She lays crumpled on the Fell Dragon’s back, wind whipping through her hair as she stares herself down, the future Robin who massacred everything in sight.

The Fell Dragon has some sort of magic, one that sent spikes through herself and the Shepherds, gravely injuring them. Her chest burns, she can’t breathe –

Robin manages to pull her eyes away from the devilish red eyes of Grima, sweeps them over the still forms of her friends, her family. She reaches her hand out, finds Chrom’s hand, gloved as always, grasps it.

If there is any hope for them, it is her.  

Lucina lays beside her, her breath shuddering and rasping. Robin takes her daughter’s hand, as she once did many months ago, brings it to her lips and kisses the back of Lucina’s hand.

“I want everything for you. And that is why I do this.”

And when she finds the courage to stand again, she accepts her fate.

 

* * *

 

"One day the flowers will come back," she tells Lucina, and the child just blinks at her, too young to understand.

But one day she will.

"Spring will come back, sweet thing. And when the flowers bloom again, they will bloom for you."

**Author's Note:**

> Just something small I wanted to put out there for Chrom's birthday! Not the best, I know, but this has been on my mind for a while. Hope you liked it :)


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